


take me (to church)

by extasiswings



Category: Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (is a euphemism), 1x10, Coffee, Cunnilingus, Episode Tag, F/M, Oral Sex, Spoilers, The Night Nurse and her Unbreakable Chill, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8188594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings
Summary: “I meant what I said back on the beach,” she says. “We’re both in this now. Together. I’m not running.”
“Because you’re a fighter?” The tease cuts through the serious air between them and Luke’s lips curve into a soft smile that Claire can’t help reciprocate.
“Damn right.”
His free hand comes up to cup her cheek and she leans into the touch. There's an energy zipping between them, the same look in his eyes from earlier, and her stomach twists with the anticipation just as it had then.
 
  What's a woman got to do to get you to kiss her, Cage?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Luke Cage. SPOILERS. If you don't want spoilers, turn back now. 
> 
> So, basically I was extremely offended by the fact that Claire and Luke never got the chance to "have coffee" because Claire is my favorite and it's just unfair. So, this is what I came up with, in all its sacrilegious glory. 
> 
> I don't actually write smut really, so this is new for me. Hope you enjoy.

“I am my brother’s keeper, whether I like it or not. It’s on me.”

Luke turns back towards the door of the church and Claire reaches out for his arm, squeezing his bicep gently. When he glances over his shoulder, her hand slips down until she's lacing her fingers through his.

_I'm here. You're alive and I'm here and I'm going to keep being here. I'm not afraid of this._

His eyes flick to their hands, then away, but there’s an uptick to the corner of his mouth that could be amused or exasperated or a combination of the two. He seems to wrestle with something internally for a moment before making up his mind and turning back to face her once more. 

"Claire..." Luke's voice reminds her of rolling thunder and hot summer nights and just like that her mouth is dry.

“Yeah?” Claire swallows to rid the roughness from her throat, brought on by his proximity and being awake for far too many hours. _Get yourself together, Temple._

“When we get back to Harlem...I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen,” he replies. “But I do know that I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

_He’ll go after everyone I care about…_

She glances down at their hands and passes her thumb over his knuckles as she considers that. She’s gotten hurt an awful lot by getting mixed up in superhero bullshit, that’s true. But she was honest with her mother too. This feels like what she’s supposed to be doing, and right now, with Luke, there’s nowhere else she would rather be. Danger be damned. 

“I meant what I said back on the beach,” she says. “We’re both in this now. Together. I’m not running.”

“Because you’re a fighter?” The tease cuts through the serious air between them and Luke’s lips curve into a soft smile that Claire can’t help reciprocate.

“Damn right.”

His free hand comes up to cup her cheek and she leans into the touch. There's an energy zipping between them, the same look in his eyes from earlier, and her stomach twists with the anticipation just as it had then.

_What's a woman got to do to get you to kiss her, Cage?_

Luke takes a step forward and just like that, he’s very much in her personal space and it’s a little difficult to breathe.

“You have the car keys already,” Claire reminds as she settles her free hand on his chest. “And I’m pretty sure I don’t have anything else for you to steal.”

He laughs. “Somehow I get the impression you wouldn’t appreciate that as much a second time anyway.”

“Who says I appreciated it the first time?” 

Luke trails his index finger down the line of her jaw, then her neck, and she shivers as her eyes flutter shut. Damn him. 

“That,” he breathes. 

Her eyes open just enough that she can glare at him. _Tease._ “Regardless...are you going to kiss me or not?”

There’s a spark of heat in his eyes that makes her breath catch, and when she wets her lips, he watches the pass of her tongue. 

“I thought you weren’t going to sleep with me,” Luke points out. 

“Oh, for—” Claire rolls her eyes and uses her grip on his shirt to tug him down as she shifts up onto her toes, capturing his mouth before she can change her mind.

There’s no hesitation on his part. The instant her lips meet his, Luke’s sliding a hand into her hair, his other slipping from hers to curve around her hip and pull her flush against him. 

It’s not a rough kiss by any means—no matter how she may have intended it starting out. Instead it’s slow and slick and the first slide of his tongue against hers makes her blood turn to lava in her veins. When his teeth catch her lower lip (accidentally, she thinks), Claire can’t stop the noise it drags from her throat and Luke’s satisfied chuckle rumbles through her as he does it again harder. 

“Luke—” Her knees give when his hand makes a slow pass up her side and settles on her breast— _and when did his hand get under her shirt anyway?_ —at the same time his teeth tug on her earlobe, but immediately he has an arm anchored around her waist. The next moment, he’s lifting her to sit on top of one of the pew backrests and she grips the edge with both hands to keep from tipping backwards.

_As if he would let you fall_ , she thinks. 

“You were saying?” Luke asks, and Christ, if she didn’t want him to never stop she would smack that self-satisfied smirk off his face. 

_What had she been going to say?_ Claire swallows hard and turns her gaze to the ceiling as she tries to remember. 

_Oh. Right._

“We’re in a church,” she reminds him. If anything, the smirk only widens. 

“Would you rather do this in the car?” 

She thinks about the car for a moment—specifically, she thinks about the lack of space in the car—and then she resigns herself to going to confession before dragging his mouth back to hers. 

Luke laughs against her lips, then growls when she bites him in censure. When he kisses her again it’s slow and open-mouthed and filthy and Claire can’t resist rocking her hips against his.

_“I’m not sleeping with you,”_ she had said at the end of that first day. Had she meant it when she said it? Yes...but it had been as much for herself as for him. A silent vow that she absolutely was not going to go down the road of falling for another charming yet jaded vigilante. 

_Been there, done that, still have the scars to prove it._

And yet...and yet Luke Cage is not Matt Murdock. Luke is a rock, not a wildfire, and if she gets cut it’ll be her choice. What’s more, he lets her in, lets her help him instead of pushing her away. He challenges her and teases her and looks at her like she’s a miracle sometimes when he thinks she can’t see and goddammit, it would be so easy to fall in love with him.

(If she’s not already. She might be)

Luke scrapes his teeth over her pulse point and levels her with a considering glance when she gasps. 

“Still with me, Night Nurse?” He asks, thumb leaving a burning trail as it traces the underwire of her bra. “You were looking pretty far away for a minute there.”

Claire sways forward and catches his mouth, grateful that his grip on her keeps her from falling off of the pew. Another roll of her hips sends a spark of pleasure through her, the friction still not enough but getting closer to what she wants.

“What do you think?” She replies when she pulls back.

Luke’s hand falls to her waistband, his fingers toying with the button of her jeans. “I think I’d really like to take these off if it’s alright with you.” 

_Fuck, yes, please._

She takes a breath and lets it out slowly in an attempt to reign herself back in. On one hand, they’re in a church, he almost died less than a day ago, and it’s only been a few hours since he found out his late wife wasn’t who he thought she was. On the other, she’s wet and burning up with need and it’s been too damn long since she had an actual flesh and blood person between her legs instead of her own fingers and she _wants_ him. More than she’s wanted anyone in years if she's honest with herself. 

It feels like they’re on the edge of a cliff ready for one strong breeze to knock them off of it. It’s a little ridiculous because he’s already had his tongue in her mouth and his hands under her shirt and they’re not going to be able to come back from that any easier than they could come back from his fingers in her underwear, but it still gives her pause. 

Not that much though. 

“Yes,” Claire agrees, just as Luke starts to pull his hand back. 

“Yes?”

She reaches down and flicks the button open for him, leaning back just enough to start working the jeans past her hips. Her eyes meet his when his hands settle on top of hers and she pauses long enough to kiss him again. 

“Yes,” she repeats. It’s all the response Luke needs. 

The jeans get caught around her shoes and there’s a moment of shuffling and laughter when Claire tries to kick them off at the same time he goes to undo the laces, but finally her pants come off, followed by her underwear. 

Luke doesn’t touch her where she wants him to immediately though. No, he takes his time, hands skimming up her calves, her thighs, feather-light and teasing. 

“You planning on making a move at some point, Cage?” She teases, impatience and anticipation making her want to squirm. “Or do I have to take care of things mysel—” 

Claire breaks off with a low moan as Luke curls an arm around her waist to steady her while his other thumb sweeps through the slick that’s built up between her thighs. Her toes curl when he circles her clit with the same digit, two other fingers sliding down to tease her entrance. 

“You were saying something?” There’s a curl to his lip that makes her want to bite it. 

“Yeah, I think it was something—” Her breath hitches when he dips the first finger inside, curling and stretching and so, so good. “—something about you being a goddamn tease.”

Luke laughs and leans in close, nosing along her jawline and catching her earlobe between his teeth before he murmurs, “Pretty sure that’s a dollar for the swear jar.” 

“You—” He adds a second finger and the stretch is just on the right side of too much. “—fuck!” 

“That too.”

“Considering you’re the one with his hand between my legs in your grandfather’s church, I think we can let it go.” Her voice is too breathless to manage the proper level of snark Luke deserves, but considering the way he curls his fingers, pressing up into that spot that is virtually guaranteed to make her curse again, she thinks he gets the picture.

(She swears in Spanish just in case, which has him chuckling against her lips as he takes her mouth again)

Fumbling through her haze of desire, Claire reaches out and hooks her fingers in his waistband. She only barely manages to dip below the fabric though before he’s catching her hand and pulling it away. 

“What—?” Luke’s eyes are soft when her gaze snaps up to meet his. 

“You’ve been taking care of me for the past several days,” he replies, turning his head to press a kiss to the center of her palm. “Let me take care of you this time. I promise when we get back, once all this is over, we’ll find a room with a real bed and you can touch as much as you want. Until then…” 

He sinks to his knees between her legs and sets his mouth to her inner thigh. 

_Oh._ Claire lets out a rough exhale at the sight. _Christ. Fucking hell._

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she promises. “Although, if you’re just down there to tease again, I—”

She doesn’t finish her sentence because Luke leans forward and flicks his tongue over her. After that, she can’t actually remember how the sentence was supposed to end anyway.

His tongue dances over her clit, never repeating the same pattern twice, and Claire digs her nails into the old wood of the pew. There’s electricity zipping under her skin, pleasure twisting her into knots until she’s shivering with it. When his fingers thrust inside her again, the combination of sensations is enough to send her sparking and spiraling over the edge. 

Claire doesn't know if she cries out or if she's silent in the breaking—she only knows that she's drowning under the waves that are crashing over her and that Luke is right there at the center of it all, keeping her anchored. 

By the time he finally lifts his head and withdraws his fingers, she isn't sure if she came once or a hundred times. Either way, she's wrung out and boneless, and his hold on her is the only thing even remotely keeping her on the pew.

“We’re definitely doing that again,” she rasps when she finds her voice again. “If that’s what you can manage in a church, I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do with a bed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Luke murmurs before her mouth finds his once more. 

On the drive back to New York, he takes one hand off the steering wheel to lace his fingers through hers. She doesn’t let go.


End file.
